And These Three Remain
by Foxbear
Summary: A series of short stories of faith, hope, and love. 1) hope
1. Chapter 1

Adler's Never Give Up

"We secured him with little trouble," the shift chief said absently.

The man's eyes were skimming over various reports even as he spoke. Adler gave a small amused snort and listened to the report with half an ear. He had been there when they loaded Scarecrow back into his, its, cage after all. But the head of security was a stickler for procedure.

"He did seem more agitated than usual," the chief went on and then hesitated long enough to catch Adler's full attention.

Adler looked at him intently and the chief gathered his thoughts.

"He really was off," the chief went on slowly.

"It was wandering the ship alone for seven months," Adler pointed out. "That is bound to have an effect on its behavior."

"I know you tell us not to anthropomorphize him," the chief said with a frown. "But if I was going to, I'd say he looked like someone was after him."

"I'd rather say he did," Adler said with a wry smile. "There was a team of crack security guards after him."

"We already had him in the box," the chief said shaking his head. "But he was still looking around, swiveling his head this way and that, all but ignoring us."

Adler nodded slowly.

"Please add that to your official observational notes," he said.

"Freaked the others out some," the chief said as he handed Adler the finished reports. "It was the almost the same way he was acting right before the other robots crashed into the ship, both times."

"Really?" Adler said with a frown.

"To a tee," the chief said with a frown. "That same surge in the red tones. That same near frantic scratching at the bars as if he was trying to get out. That same looking around like he was expecting something. It sure looked like he was responding to another robot attack."

"Curious," Adler said with a frown. "What do you make of it?"

"I'm not sure," the chief said with a grim set to his face. "But I'd be very curious to see what all the Robinson's have onboard the J2."

Adler gave a curt nod and glanced over at Scarecrow's cage.

"Our usual arrangement is good?" he asked.

The chief stiffened and glared at him, his face growing even grimmer if that was possible.

"Adler," he said in a warning tone.

"You know I'm good for the payment," Adler murmured. "And we have every hope of getting home now so you can enjoy it."

"That's not-" the chief sighed and rubbed his face. "Look Adler, this isn't just about the piloting thing now. We need every able bodied man if-"

"I've never let it seriously injure me," Adler interjected. "Not to the point that it compromised my usefulness to the colony. I will be fine. Do we still have a deal?"

The chief rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation.

"You know," he said. "I was super excited when my second girl wanted to be one of you science types. But now it just makes me question if I gave her enough survival instincts."

Adler chuckled.

"She is going into botany isn't she?" he asked. "That offers a few less opportunities for danger than my line of work I suppose."

"How much danger did your dad think you'd be getting into when you chose robot brains for your degree?" the chief asked even as he began to enter the necessary codes on the security panel.

Adler broke into an actual laugh at that.

"I see your point," he admitted. "But I suspect that any child of yours will have more common sense than any child of my father's. You have nothing to worry about."

"Don't die, idiot," the chief said as he stepped out of the door.

Adler drew in a deep breath as the door closed behind the guard and slowly turned to face the crouched form in the cage. His stomach clenched as decades of instruction began screaming at him that this was madness, worse than madness, it was sentiment. _But, no Adler ever gave up on a friend_, murmured his grandfather's voice in his head. Adler stepped slowly past the lines that marked out the electromagnetic field. The muscles on his ribcage rippled in anticipatory fear. Each time he did this it was harder to overcome the learned response to the pain. Every fiber of his flesh, every moment of his training, screamed at him that this was pointless, madness.

"If this is what they mean by a soul," Adler said in a rueful tone as he eased the door of the cage open, "I'm not sure how a species with one survived to achieve fire, let alone space flight."

Scarecrow was acting oddly. Adler could see that from the start. The robot's remaining fingers were flexing and retracting where it had curled them under its frame. Instead of glancing around as the chief had described Scarecrow was simply facing the direction of the J2, face swirling with more red than Adler had seen there in awhile.

"What has you so aggitated Scarecrow?" Adler asked softly.

Instead of the slow reaction Adler had become used to since the desperate jump to the still nameless system, _the jump that had given him so much hope_, Scarecrow reacted instantly. His, its, face was swirling with the patterns for threat analysis, or what was left of them in the warped crystal. Instead of simply coming to the edge of the cage Scarecrow surged out of it. He lunged at Adler and the man caught his breath but held still as the alien snatched at his collar. Scarecrow stared at him, into him, frantically and began to gesture towards the J2 even as his face dance with complex information.

"Threat!" Adler gasped out, feeling the horrible pain of hope surging again in his soul.

Scarecrow gave a pulse that used to mean confirmation but it was so weak now. He used two hands to grasp Adler's collar and began a slow careful pattern.

"Child Young? Negation? All?" Adler repeated each pattern as it flickered into existence.

Adler followed the flow of ideas as best he could, holding up one hand in the symbol they had worked out in better times to recognize the concept of verb tense modification, past situation continuing into the present. That concept danced around all the patterns he was seeing. His heart was pounding now. All the risks he had taken. Were they finally paying off? Could he finally think of Scarecrow as-

_No, no, no, please no_!

His mind was screaming out the warning even before he fully recognized the red pattern that was materializing from the upper right quadrant of Scarecrow's, of its display. But, today, _no,_ the meaning laden patterns seemed to be fighting the all too familiar warning. Adler reached up a hand to caress the warped plates on the side of Scarecrow's head.

"Please," he whispered. "Stay with me. Just for another moment. Samantha was fine. You controlled yourself for her sake. For seven months you controlled yourself. Please-"

_But the warning lights_. The precise, defined patterns were overwhelming the flowing thoughts. Scarecrow was still gripping his collar. _Trying to communicate. _But Adler felt the all too familiar prod of hot metal at his side. The muscles over his ribs, a stray thought wondered which muscles they were, rippled in anticipation so acute it was a pain in itself as it pulled on old scars. But still he lingered, the hope holding him there was a pain enough that nothing Scarecrow could do to him could possibly compete with it. The familiar fire blossomed in time to the familiar light that danced over the display. Someone was shouting. There was one last yank of pain on his neck as Scarecrow jerked back and flew into his, its, cage. Scarecrow's head cracked loudly against the top of the cage and the chief stepped into view and slammed the door shut with a curse.

"You alive Adler?" the chief demanded.

The man's face was suddenly blocking Adler's view of Scarecrow and Adler lurched around him, crawling towards the cage. He peered in, his breath catching heavily in his chest. Scarecrow lifted his, its, display the attack pattern burning bright and constant through the warped crystal. Below it, Adler saw the words the ideas…The scientist shook his head and stood. Or rather, tried to stand. A sudden starburst of pain broke through the haze of hope and despair.

"Idiot," muttered the chief as he pulled Adler off the ground. "What did you see that got you so distracted?"

"Thank you," Adler gasped. "It looks like I own you my life yet again."

"You're not distracting me," the chief said grimly and he probed the fresh wound on Adler's ribcage. "What did you see?"

Adler winced and cast one last look at burning red display. His tone was more tired than anything when he finally spoke.

"I saw what I wanted to see," he said. "Prepare _it_ to be moved to the Jupiter 2."

"You going to go see the doc?" the chief asked.

"If I know nothing else about this situation," Adler said, stepping away from the guard with a gasp of pain. "I know these wounds are sterile. I will be fine."

He staggered out of the room without looking back. The chief of the watch stared after him with a sigh and turned back to the cage. The attack pattern had faded and Scarecrow was staring listlessly off into the distance.

"Craig always said better safe than sorry," the guard might have been speaking to himself or the figure in the cage. "And I guess the way we treat you now we've eliminated safe and have nothing left but sorry. But it sure would be a damn sight easier to treat you like a person if you'd let us."

The guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cards.

"Remember this?" he asked. "Good times eh?"

Scarecrow's attention seemed to flick up to the cards and then he labouredly turned away and curled himself up in the corner, his display hidden. The guard stood and tucked the cards back into his pocket before calling the rest of the team to help with the transfer.


	2. Love

No Man An Island

A Lost in Space Fanfiction

Thankfully the cargo net had needed mending, and he now sat on one of the few remaining storage lockers bent over the task. Not that John Robinson was every really at a loss for something to do. This patchwork colony was always needing the two strong arms and innumerable skills he had picked up in a lifetime of rough work. But so many of the other tasks he was needed for were public. The simple job of drilling holes in the tough material, lacing the wire through them, then heat crimping the wire shut could be done in the privacy of the Jupiter's garage.

The relative privacy he thought with a sigh as he heard feat on the ladder. He felt a dull flicker of relief as he heard the ladder whine in protest. He should really check the attachment points when he was done with this. The Jupiter's were strong, built to last generations, but they hadn't been made to take however many pounds the robots put on them. From the way the ladder was protesting it was either Robot or Scarecrow coming down. Neither of them would be likely to notice. Still he ducked his head as if examining the drill he was using to make the holes in the dense material. Some habits were hard to break.

The creaking of the ladder gave way to the heavy tread of Robot's footsteps as he crossed the garage towards the chariot. John heard the rear storage compartment open and something heavy clunked as it was placed there. There was a shuffling as Robot arranged whatever he was putting away. John wished he would hurry up. He swallowed hard and placed the drill bit over the next mark. The tool hummed to life with a far less satisfying sound than the rusty old machines he had taught Judy to use in the golden dust of the horse barn. The fond memory pulled a smile out of his lips, right before the drill penetrated the material, jolted through and took a small chunk of skin off of his knuckle.

John grunted and shook out his hand. The noises from the back of the chariot stopped and he heard the compartment close followed by footsteps approaching him. John gave a snort of irritation and waved his hand to show Robot how minor the injury was, to wave him away. It was really remarkable how nurturing Robot was. It was endearing. It was exactly the sort of example of controlled power that John wanted his children to grow up seeing. It was exactly what he couldn't stand at the moment.

The footsteps came to a stop just behind him and John bent over his task, the dry burning threatening to ruin the nice illusion he had been holding onto all day. A blue hand reached around and gently touched the bleeding knuckle and the way the light brightened on the work in his hands told John that Robot was bent over him, examining him. John swallowed again. His work worn hands worked the wire through the holes. If only Robot would leave.

The Jupiter was full of people who could use the comforting presence of the newest addition to the Robinson family. Don West was flat on his back under the pilot's console, already fourteen hours into his day, trying once again to coax small miracles out of the battered components. Don was ruminating over some perceived sin, heaven only knew what it was. John had taken a moment to try and pry it out of him, had shared a story about the time he had made some mistake on patrol in Afghanistan. They had laughed together over some small thing. Something only men who were striving to do better would understand. Don had seemed more relaxed when John had left him, but the kid needed all the encouragement he could get.

The blue hand at his side withdrew and John felt his breath hitch a little with relief. Robot would go now, his worry and curiosity satisfied. Those blue hands could be useful elsewhere.

Maureen could probably use another backrub. The one he had given her earlier was probably wearing off. She would still be bent over the table in the hub where he'd left her. As he heat crimped the wires shut he wondered what that particular crying fit had been about. She seemed to be having them more often lately. He had only asked what a particular diagram had meant and she had snapped at him something sarcastic and scientific. His startle must have shown on his face because she had immediately apologized, then collapsed into his chest to cry. Then the backrub of course.

Robot took two lumbering steps back and John was startled by the soft susurration of unfolding metal. John jerked up and glanced around frantically, his hand going for his knife, but as far as he could see they were alone in the garage. He shot a curious look at Robot and felt his gut unclench when he was only met with a dense white field of swirling light. He had never seen a face quite like that. He was used to a more star like pattern. This was more akin to dense high altitude clouds on a moonlit night.

John stared at Robot a moment longer. It was rare he got to see this form when they weren't in a life or death situation. Then the burning in his eyes reminded him what he was doing here. He gave Robot a weak smile and ducked his head back over his work. There was a soft shuffling behind him and the white light played over his hands again. Something tightened painfully in his chest at the quiet presence behind him and his vision began to blur.

John twitched hard suddenly as something brushed his ribcage but he didn't take his unfocused gaze off of the crisscrossed pattern of black straps in front of him. Slowly, gently Robot's lower arms encircled his waist. John tried to reach up and pat the hands...talons? In a comforting gesture but his arms suddenly felt heavy, weak. Instead Robot's two hands closed gently over his in a warm grasp. The second, large set of hands reached down and crossed lightly over his sternum. The moment stretched out for several heartbeats before John slowly lifted his other hand and placed it in their grip. Robot gave his hands a gentle squeeze and John returned it.

John's vision was completely blurred now and his pulse pounded in his sinuses. He took a ragged breath, meaning to say something, to assure robot he was fine. But Robot let his head dip and gently rubbed the side of his jaw against the crown of John's head in a gesture that felt all too human. Something in John broke and his words turned into a quiet, ragged sob. He was dimly aware that Robot pulled him close. That his back was pressed against the warm plating that shielded Robot's core. But the sensation that stuck out the most was when Robot carefully curled his neck down over John's head. The back of a human skull fit nicely, comfortably in the crook of an alien robot's neck apparently.

John felt his body wracked with the dry, quiet sobs that he so rarely allowed himself to indulge in. He had to be strong. Here, on this Jupiter, among the humans, he wasn't just a husband and a father. He was a warrior. The only man, or at least the highest ranking man, trained, practiced prepared to do violence for the colony. He couldn't afford to be weak. They needed him, needed his strength. Even when he was ready to break with the fear, the frustration, the fury that this strange new life filled him with. He understood all this both mentally and on a visceral, physical level.

Somehow, somehow he hadn't even thought about the fact that the equation didn't just include humans anymore. There was another pair, well, another two pairs really, of shoulders bearing the burden of the Robinson family. There was another warrior ready to defend their little village at all costs. John had spent so much time thinking of Robot as Will's friend, he had missed how much responsibility their-his friend had taken. Somehow, now, in this moment of weakness and blinding tears, he suddenly saw how much he had come to depend on the big guy.

John grasped the talons that held his hands as if they were a life line. The plating behind his back was firm and still. But Robot was gently moving his head at times, giving John's scalp a tender, sideways nuzzle. John wasn't sure how long he sat like that, cradled by arms capable of so much violence, feeling safe for a few blessed moments. But eventually his sobs turned to quiet gasps, and he felt his hands go limp in Robot's.

Robot lifted his head a moment, and then gave him one final nuzzle, before gently disengaging his hands and pulling them quietly away. John just breathed for a moment, letting the sudden chill caused by the removal of Robot's warmth clear his mind. It wasn't until he heard the ladder protesting again that he thought to turn and thank Robot. But as he watched the now humanoid form climb up, out of the garage the words wouldn't form.

What could he say? He still didn't know how much English Robot understood, and all the words he could think of felt flat and pointless next to what that touch had communicated. Robot wasn't looking back for a response. John pulled up memories of the times that he had comforted his brother officers in times of great distress. He wouldn't have wanted them to burden those near sacred moments with useless words. They hadn't. He wouldn't.

But at the last moment Robot did turn, and glanced back at him with a familiar figure-eight pattern dancing across his face. John felt a small but genuine smile pull at his lips and Robot ducked his head in a final nod before disappearing up the ladder.


	3. Do Robots Get Electric Earaches

Do Robots Get Electric Earaches?

A Lost in Space FanFiction

"And then there is that!" Don West exclaimed, pointing up and out of the Jupiter's hub.

John Robinson glanced up from the reports he was skimming to follow the pointing finger and the accusing gaze. It was fairly obvious what had earned the mechanics ire. There was a pattern of scuff marks running nearly perfectly perpendicular to the tracks that guided the doors. Nothing that passed frequently through the Jupiter should have been tall enough to make those marks. Still, John glanced at the younger man with an amused smile.

"Do they compromise the safety of the hub?" he asked.

"Not yet," Don muttered as he shifted the wrench under his arm. "It's the principle of the thing. This ship takes enough of a beating as is. There's no reason for anyone to be deliberately, and you know it's deliberate, marking up my pretty…"

Don's rant trailed off as he turned and stomped down the corridor towards whatever else needed his attention at the moment. John indulged in a short huff of amusement and turned back to his reports. He made his way to the central table and found a relatively clear space to set the hot drink Watanabe called tea. John was secure in his belief that no one other than the xenobiologist needed to know what it actually was. But it was hot and savory and gave his free hand something to do while he read the day's scouting reports. John winced as he eased down into the chair and heaved a sigh as he took a moment to just breathe. Then he shook his head and started reading.

The silence was soon enough interrupted by a very familiar heavy tread. John felt a smile pull at his lips and glanced over to nod at Robot. However the tall form didn't even look at him as he stalked past the window, swirling face focused intently in front of him. John frowned and set his drink down again. He followed Robot with his eyes. Robot wasn't running, but he was moving slightly faster than the careful tread he normally used to navigate the too small spaces of the Jupiter. John twisted in his seat to keep the clearly agitated Robot in view. However his ribs protested and he grunted and turned back, choosing instead to carefully stand up.

By the time John was on his feet Robot had reached the door and turned into the hub. However instead of coming in Robot stopped in the doorway and turned, pressing his armored spine against the jamb. John watched as Robot arched back and then stretched up until his head was brushing the marks that had Don so confused. John chuckled softly to himself.

The sound caught Robot's attention and he started, glancing over at John. John's smile faded as he stared into Robot's face. The sparking pink lights that danced against the deep blue were not something John had seen often, only when Robot was distressed. Robot seemed to be reading John as well and glanced away as if to hide his agitation.

"What's wrong Big Guy?" John asked.

Robot turned back to him and his face danced in a complex pattern. It started with a pure white statement, then danced though a pale orange threat analysis, finally settling back into the pink sparks that seemed to indicate some sort of distress. John quirked his lips into a rueful smile and walked towards Robot.

"Come on Big Guy," he said. "You are going to have to give me a little more than that."

Robot hesitated and then flexed back down to his normal height. He gave John a dismissive wave that was anything but unclear. It's fine. Don't worry. I'm fine. John snorted and reached out to touch Robot's arm as the newest member of his family turned to leave the hub. Not a grip. Nothing that would make Robot feel restrained or controlled. Just a request. A request Robot instantly respected, stopping and turning his now carefully controlled face of white stars to politely look down at John.

"No dice Big Guy," John said.

Robot tilted his head to the side.

"That," John said, indicating the scuffs on the doorjamb, "has been going on awhile and it's started driving our friendly neighborhood mechanic up the wall."

Robot's face flickered in surprise and glanced around.

"Metaphorically," John explained. "Now, what's this about?"

Robot flexed his shoulder plating and shifted his feet uneasily, glancing around the Jupiter.

"Don's in the garage," John offered. "Otherwise it's just you and me. I came up here to get some quiet for my reports."

Robot pulsed his face in agreement and his glances changed slightly to the wandering pattern that he used when trying to express concepts more complex than yes, no, and something is trying to kill us. Finally he simply locked gazes with John and reached up to tap the crest of his armored head. John felt his gut clench with the frustrating guilt of his own helplessness. It was never easy to look at the consequences of his failure to protect his.

"Let's have a look at it," John said, stepping back further into the hub and beckoning Robot to follow him.

Robot hesitated again but obeyed. John glanced around and braced himself to climb up on the chair.

"Need to get a little altitude," he muttered.

It still wasn't quite enough and Robot ducked his head and crouched a little to present the damaged armor to the human. John reached up and gently took the warm plates on either side of the wound. He felt Robot's plating twitch under the touch. His stomach tightened with fury but he held himself in check. Robot needed medical attention, not a sailor's vengeful curses. He lightly brushed his thumb over the scuffs made by the outer ring of the drill and Robot suddenly went unnaturally still.

"Did that hurt Big Guy?" John asked.

"No," Robot quickly, too quickly assured him.

"Uncomfortable at all?" John tried again.

"No," Robot repeated.

"Oversensitive?" John asked.

There was a moment of hesitation and then Robot nodded firmly. John grunted and gently traced his fingertips over the damaged plates. There were fresh scuffs on top of the deeper grooves the drill had left. John glanced with a wry smile at the matching marks on the doorjamb.

"They're warmer than the surrounding plating," he observed. "That would be normal for a human. Is it for you?"

There was another nod.

"This way?" John asked, gently guiding the movement as he looked down into the hole.

Robot's head easily followed the direction of his hands as John played the light of the hub ring this way and that. Thick cables seemed to be filling the base and thin, spider-web filaments were growing, dream-catcher style around the edge of the hole. However for every filament that stretched successfully to another point on the circle there were dozens that had snapped and now wafted with every breath of air that struck them, flicking back against the taught lines.

"That's gotta itch," John said with a sympathetic grunt.

He shifted his feet to get a better angle and felt his heel slip off the edge of the chair. He reacted easily enough and Robot had caught his elbow to steady him almost before he had slipped. However the sudden movement sent a stab of pain through his side. John grimaced but bit back any sound. Robot was gently but firmly pulling down at his elbow with the clear intent of getting him off the chair. John rolled his eyes and stepped down.

"You need to stop that," John said indicating the scuffed patch on the door. "Even if it doesn't damage the door it's preventing your head from healing."

Robot nodded in understanding but the frustrated pink sparks still danced across his face. John chuckled and reached out to touch Robot's arm.

"Hey," he said softly. "When Penny was a kid she got her head closed in a door. We had to keep her from scratching at the stitches for a while. Put socks on her hands…"

Robot was starting at him intently now, complex concepts flashing across his face with just a hint of the red patterns of threat analysis in the background. John suddenly stopped talking as he ran up against the all too familiar wall of their language barrier. He sighed and gestured at Robot's head.

"We need to do something about that," John said.

Robot stared at him inscrutably for a long moment before throwing up his hands in a frustrated gesture and giving up on whatever he'd been trying to communicate a moment before to pulse a simple yes.

"Since you're not using your hands socks won't do much good," John said with a thoughtful frown. "I don't suppose you'd let one of the actual doctors-"

"No!" Robot said firmly his face dancing with red.

John nodded. He understood. Still-

"There's only so much I'm good for Big Guy," John said. "It would help if you could trust someone other than a sailor to look at you."

Robot's face went inscrutable again and John sighed. But a moment later, without breaking their gaze, Robot's hand came up and prodded him deliberately at a very specific spot on his rib cage. John cursed as stars exploded in his vision and he clutched at his side. When his vision cleared Robot was staring him with his arms actually crossed in a near perfect imitation of Maureen's 'oh really' look. John gave a short bark of laughter and straightened.

"Okay," he said through gritted teeth. "So I'm not the best example of trusting doctors. But a hole in the head is a far cry from a few cracked ribs."

Robot continued to stare at him impassively, arms still crossed.

"Do _you_ have any bright ideas?" John asked as he rotated his shoulders slowly.

Robot uncrossed his arms and his face danced in a slow but complicated display. He was working something out and John waited with what he hoped was patience. Finally Robot lifted a hand hesitantly and held it out to John. John glanced between it and the lights a few times, arching his eyebrows. Robot's shoulders heaved in what would have been a sigh of frustration in a human and his fingers flexed. Suddenly his face brightened in something that was almost a yes and he stepped into John's personal space.

John couldn't hide a defensive cringe at that and Robot hesitated, one finger raised almost to John's chin. John took a deep breath and nodded. He wasn't going to hold Robot's reasonable unease with human doctors against the big guy. He figured Robot wasn't going to hold his own defensive instincts against him. Robot reached up and carefully touched his forehead beside the old injury that was almost a scar. John flinched again but then held himself still. Robot carefully traced the laceration, not touching the center, several times and then backed off, looking down at John expectantly again.

"Yeah," John said with a sigh. "That gives me nothing."

Robot tilted his head again and reached out to gently grasp John's wrist.

"Okay?" John said, squinting up at Robot.

Robot lifted his hand up, and up until John was grunting with the painful stretch. Robot immediately released his hand with lights of distress dancing in with the pink stars.

"I'm fine," John assured him.

Robot didn't look like he believed that in the least, but he suddenly crouched and then knelt even as he took John's wrist back. Robot lifted the hand again and this time easily placed it next to the injury. John could feel the warm plates and see the anticipation in Robot's face. Robot reached up again and gently traced slow circles around the laceration on John's head. John suddenly understood and chuckled.

"I don't think getting me to do the actual scratching gets around the no scratching rule," John said.

Robot pulled their hands together in front of them and pointedly pressed the tips of their fingers together. John blinked and then nodded thoughtfully.

"I probably couldn't do much damage as long as I stay away from the filaments," John admitted. "Even those are pretty strong compared to human skin. To do any damage in the first place you had to use the strongest part of the ship."

He experimentally ran his thumb over the abrasions around the wound. Robot stilled and then leaned into the touch. John grunted a bit as the shift in weight pushed his arm sideways and Robot pulled back in concern.

"It's fine," John assured him. "We just can't do this standing up and I've got an idea."

John scooped up his reports and his drink from the table and walked over to the bench. Robot followed him curiously, the pink sparks still dancing in his face.

"See Judy," John began, "well, all the kids really, went through a stage where they were constantly getting earaches. It seemed like one or the other of them would be down with one every other night."

John shifted someone's coat out of the way and sat down on the bench. He set the reports and the drink out of the way and patted his thigh invitingly.

"It just needed a little peroxide of course," John explained. "But the important part of the treatment was where they got to lay their heads on my lap and I'd massage around the ear."

He could see Robot running the calculations behind that globe, figuring out how much weight to put where, how to fold his body. John let him work it out and simply waited. After several moments of consideration Robot knelt and crossed his arms on the bench beside John. He rested his chin gingerly on John's lap and shifted around a bit. It was significantly more weight than John remembered from when the kids were small, but it probably wouldn't be enough to actually put his leg to sleep. Robot looked somewhat awkwardly hunched but it was hard to tell when someone had that many joints.

"Comfy?" John asked.

Robot pulsed his face once and John dropped his hand to rest beside the injury. Robot flinched visibly.

"Sorry!" John said, quickly lifting his hand but Robot followed the gesture with his head and peered up at him with dense white swaths of light swirling across his face, interspaced with the pink sparks.

John carefully replaced his hand and Robot let his head drop back into John's lap. John began the careful circling motion with his index and middle fingers that had soothed the children. Robot's neck flexed, and then relaxed against him and soon the pink sparks began to fade. The ever present subtle movements in Robot's armor began to grow slower and his spines relaxed against his back. John smiled down at the signs of relaxation as his hands fell into the well remembered rhythm. The white light in Robot's face was growing less dense, changing from something like dense fog to patterns of stars. The pink sparks were gone entirely. John glanced down at the filaments. His touch hadn't disturbed any and he made a mental note of the pattern so he could make sure fresh ones were growing.

"Will had the most," John mused thoughtfully.

The lights shifted distinctly at that.

"Earaches," John explained and then figured that probably didn't mean much to Robot. "It's an infection in the ear. Nothing serious usually, but hurts like the dickens, and the ear is one of those places germs get in to the human body. Sensors are always a tactical weakness like that. So when the kids came down with them I'd just get a towel and some peroxide. I'd put the towel down on my lap and they'd lie down just like this-"

He glanced in consternation at the hunched form taking up most of the bench with his elbows alone and kneeling on the floor.

"Sort of like this," John amended. "But more sideways on the couch. But you know how small Will is, was."

John stared off into the distance now. The story, the talking was part of the distraction, part of the cure. A thousand memories flooded him at how familiar this whole situation was. How many times had Judy, Penny, Will, even Maureen laid here and accepted what was perhaps the only medical care he knew how to apply?

"Will barely weighed anything at all," John went on. "It worried me sometimes. Sometimes it felt like he would just blow away some day. But when he was there on my lap, when I could feel the warmth of him, the weight of him, no matter how little it was, he just felt more real, more solid. You're only supposed to let the peroxide soak for a minute, but sometimes I'd start telling him stories and we'd sit there for what seemed like hours."

John fell silent and his eyes glistened.

"One winter I was home for Thanksgiving," he went on. "It was a hard winter, long and cold. All three came down with earaches at once while we were at Grandma's. They all woke up not long after they'd gone to bed crying. Maureen was out in the barn doing something or the other to the plumbing so I got everything ready myself. I was taking care of Will first but Penny was clearly in a lot of pain. So Judy decides that she's more than old enough to take care of her sister. And she got out the towel, and got Penny on her lap. She spilled a lot more peroxide than what actually got in Penny's ear but-"

John sniffed and choked out a laugh.

"Better be careful," he said. "Salt water works just as well for human earaches but I doubt it'll do that hole in your head any good."

He glanced down at Robot's face and felt a tiny flicker of unease. Robot was staring into the distance. The white stars danced in a constantly shifting figure-eight that filled his entire face from crown to chin. John wondered why this face would make him nervous. Then recalled the last time Robot had shown it, right before-

"Judy did real good," John went on quickly, glancing away.

Robot shifted slightly on his lap, as if he somehow felt the turn of his thoughts. John felt an oddly sharp stab of guilt and forcefully dismissed the darker memory in favor of one that smelled of a fireplace, the soft ozone of peroxide, and Grandma's cookies.

"Then she showed Penny how to do it for her," he went on, easily falling into the power of the older, stronger memory. "Never was more peroxide spilled to less effect but the job got done. Then they came over and sat at my feet until I was done with Will."

His voice broke here and he brushed his free arm across his eyes.

"Maureen came in just before I was done and wanted to put them back to bed," John went on. "But Judy insisted that the first dose didn't take and that even if it didn't hurt now, they would relapse if Daddy didn't do it right. So, so I did."

He finished softly and stared out across a slightly blurrier than usual hab, his fingers now lightly tracing a broad figure-eight around the injury on Robot's crown. A sudden but muffled sniffle came from around a corner, followed by the sound of a nosey mechanic getting back to work. John glanced down at Robot, who showed showed no sign of moving, and reached over to take a drink of the questionable tea. His throat clear he picked up the report he had been reading and began sorting though the scouts' reports of boredom, monotony, and the occasionally useful item. He was nearly done when Robot shifted slightly and lifted one arm just enough to pull the report down into his line of sight. John figured that was fair and they finished reading the report together. The soft glow of Robot's figure-eight reflected back up at him from the tablet and for some reason it no longer reminded John of anything but firewood, ozone, and cookies.


	4. Welcome Home

Welcome Home

A Lost in Space Fanfiction

"Really Scabs. I am perfectly capable of walking half a klick through a fortified camp on my own," Scarecrow said.

Robot Robinson tightened his shoulder plating and didn't even bother to hide the orange sparks of annoyance that danced across his face at the nickname. For the moment he could only be grateful that no humans had picked up on it yet. However there was a sort of wry affection laced through the comment that took the burn out of the insult.

"If you insist on stalking around a human camp in that form," Robot Robinson reminded him. "I think it's best if the humans see something a little more comforting with you. We don't want another panic."

"You constantly underestimate the humans Scabs," Scarecrow said, giving a dismissive wave with his lower arm.

Robot Robinson could have pointed out all the flaws in that statement. His head still ached when the wind blew cold. Instead he simply set his face swirling with the warm anticipation he felt. Once he dropped Scarecrow off at Ben Adler's he could head home himself. The three days they had spent scouting had been well spent and productive. The camp had been safe when they returned despite their mutual uneasiness on leaving it unguarded. Still, he wouldn't be quite easy until he was back in the Jupiter's hub with his family around him.

"Hey! Scarecrow!" a happy voice called out.

Both pilots paused and turned to face the excited voice as a small human girl dropped the handle of the water barrel she was rolling along and bolted towards them. Scarecrow immediately stepped forward and held out his arms. Samantha gave a leap and wrapped herself around his abdomen. Scarecrow hummed in delight and nuzzled the crown of her head as all four of his arms encircled the tiny frame.

"See?" he demanded smugly. "No panic here."

"Family's different," Robot Robinson protested.

It was hard to hold on to anything remotely resembling an antagonistic emotion however when basking in the glow of the love the girl child radiated. She pulled her face away from Scarecrow and smiled brilliantly up at Robot Robinson. The double layer of stripped lights of her face glowed brightly in the fading evening air and the vigorous pulsing of her circulatory system kept them in motion, a strange and nearly unreadable cacophony of life and emotion.

"Did you have a good mission?" Samantha asked.

Robot Robinson pulsed his face in an affirmative.

"A very good mission," Scarecrow answered in human. "We missed you but."

"You missed me though," Samantha corrected him with a giggle.

"I bring you this," Scarecrow went on, freeing one of his lesser arms and reaching under a dorsal plate to produce a gleaming blue-green scale from one of the creatures that roamed the planet.

Robot could see the correction on Samantha's lips but it broke off in a gasp as she accepted the gift.

"Oh, Scarecrow!" She said.

She ducked forward to give him another hug. Then her eyes unfocused as she remembered something. She pressed it back into his hand.

"But you have to carry it back to the hab for me," she said, scrambling down from his lap. "I have to get the water back to Mom and I don't want to crush it."

Scarecrow glanced at the water barrel and took three quick steps towards it. He reached down to lift the handle himself but Samantha snatched it away from him with cry of indignation. She shoved her bangs out of her face and glared up at him.

"This is my job!" She insisted. "And I can do it just fine."

Robot Robinson could see the affection and exasperation chasing around Scarecrow's face as he examined the child. Finally however he gave a pulse of agreement and tilted his head towards the hab. Samantha gave the water barrel a push and began chatting about the school play she was participating in.

"Even you can't argue that you'll make a better comforting escort than she will," Scarecrow said in parting. "Go home Scabs. You know your warrior won't sleep until you've reported."

Robot Robinson agreed, but he lingered until he saw them turn up the pathway to the hab. Molly was standing on the ramp of the Jupiter casting worried eyes around for her daughter. Her face lit with recognition and relief when she spotted the returning pilot beside the child.

"Nurse Molly," Scarecrow called out in greeting.

Robot Robinson turned away and headed back to the Robinson's Jupiter. The day had ended in earnest by the time he came within sight of the J2. The black scoring on the hull stood out in sharp contrast to the warm red thermal energy the J2 was radiating. Robot Robinson felt his face flicker to match it as he thought of how close that ship had so frequently come to failing. However he pushed aside the disturbing thoughts. As Scarecrow had predicted 'his warrior' was waiting at the bottom of the lowered ramp of the J2.

John Robinson was whittling away at some printed device with his pocketknife. Robot suddenly felt a surge of familiarity. This was rather like the first time he had seen the patriarch of the Robinson family. Only then it had been ice that same knife had been chipping away at. Judy's life on the line, Will frantic with fear at his side. John glanced up and his expression lit with a smile. His face was smooth and readable at the moment. He had clearly shaved recently. Robot Robinson was still a ways off, this bipedal form restricted his speed, and John had time to slip both knife and item into his pocket and stand to greet him. The human opened his mouth to voice some greeting but hesitated, a cautious and calculating look in his eyes as he stroked his smooth chin. Robot Robinson idly wished that humans were a bit more readable. It was difficult to tell what was going on behind all the organic matter that shielded their lights. He was however, able to see when John came to a decision and reached his broad thumb up to his face.

Robot Robinson was only a pace away and stopped to watch in fascination as John dragged the pad of his thumb over his upper lip in a gesture Robot Robinson hadn't seen a human use before. It was fairly close to the gesture they made to stop itching on their nose but slightly lower. It did leave a broad swath of light where the contact excited the flesh beneath the thumb and John was continuing the gesture. He dragged his thumb down around his jaw, then recrossed his upper lip. He then drew the line, up, over his eyes, and back down, ending with a final drag over his lip. He briskly rubbed his hands together then held them, palms out, fingers slightly curled as if he was holding an apple in each hand. His feet were spread in a wide stance and he had a slightly uncertain smile on his face.

"Welcome home?"

Robot Robinson knew his own face had reacted with the proper answer. He could feel the double coil of acknowledgment form in response. But for a moment something so wonderful tightened in his core that it paralyzed him. For a moment. Then he darted forward and swept John up in a hug. He couldn't think about forming human words at the moment. He figured John would understand.

"I guess I got it right then," John said with a laugh as he returned the hug.

Robot Robinson pulled back just enough to flash a yes at him through the dancing double rings of his response.

"Come on in Big Guy," John said, shifting out of the hug. "I put Will to bed an hour ago but there's no way he went to sleep before you showed up."

Robot Robinson nodded and gave John's shoulder a thankful squeeze.

"How?" he asked as they walked up the ramp together.

"The words were all Penny," John said, his voice near bursting with pride. "She figured out the context and all that. Judy helped her with how to get the human body to mimic what you do as closely as possible. They've been practicing several new words."

Robot Robinson nodded his understanding. He would have to thank them. But for the moment his core was already leaping in tune to the double beat temp of Will's heart beat and he walked ahead to greet his friend.


	5. Encouragement

Encouragement

A Lost in Space FanFiction

Blinding, searing pain ripped through his processors, building with each grim command. Cold crept into his extremities as if conducted by some invisible touch. It spread in fractals towards his core as his subsystems devoted energy and focus to maintaining control. He set subprograms to fight the near overwhelming orders and focused his attention on his plan, his mission. He found himself suddenly developing a grim respect for the other who had endured this so long while still staying true. Such a thought bit dangerously into his own assumptions, but then that only meant his desperate gamble had a greater chance of paying off.

Another wave of pain came and he fought the urge to snap the constraints that held him in place and claw the controller out of his head. This human tech was fragile, damage the wrong cable and he might doom them all, again. He had to stay strong, to stay in control. He was going to save everyone this time-

The pain suddenly slacked and he tired to focus on Hastings, wondering what had distracted the human. Hastings had turned away from him and was focusing on someone who had just entered the control room. There was a blur of movement and the pain suddenly stopped, leaving only pulsing echos. The restraints clicked as they retracted and the probe slid from his head with a grating sensation that sent horribly unpleasant sparks across his neural net. He was blind, numb, but he was free. Immediately he threw his systems into a fast reboot.

Protocol could take a long scramble out a short airlock; he needed his processors clear to react to whatever had happened. Time was ticking away. He was going to save everyone. He was dimly aware that he was falling forward and braced himself for the impact of the floor on his display and the empty coldness of the _Resolute's_ dead metal, but it never came.

Instead he was met with warmth and chaos. The bitter cold that had been stealing up his limbs fled from starbursts of heat on his shoulders and arms. The warmth was followed by a wash of strange, alien sensations but he couldn't bring himself to resent that as he once had. There was the wild, near frenetic present of Maureen, and the brilliant singular focus that could only be John Robinson. Moments later he felt the lesser lights join the two that held him. Judy and Penny, the strange blending of their forerunners steadiness and brilliance. They were here. They were safe. They were talking, talking about him. He tuned out the words, focusing on bringing his strained, starved systems online. He could afford to ignore the world with the warrior there, watching over him.

"Can you hear me?" John asked, his voice tight.

John's hands pressed against him, holding his weight, caressing him, the wild electrical pulses from the human's nerves telling far more than his voice ever would. He could feel the real concern radiating from the human. In the fashion of a true warrior John was focusing on one goal, tending to his needs, but John's emotions were fractured with concern, concern for him. He felt something warm glow to life within him, responding to the genuine love he felt fueling John's concern. He ignored the pain and with an effort turned his head to face John. How could he reassure the human? He felt his display finish the reboot even as he was thinking that and the first words he formed flowed unfiltered from his thoughts.

"The concern and love you give me John, all of you my family," he said. "Thank you, I can feel it."

He knew his lights were weak and in no little dissray. He hoped they would understand despite that. There was a murmur of relief at his lights, but no one responded directly to them.

"Will's safe."

The sound of the words played over him, breathed over him in soft organic tones again and again, in time with the gentle strokes of their hands. He wondered why. Why did they think he needed the reassurance? He could feel Will drawing nearer every moment, in deep pain, but calm. Of course Will was safe. As safe a he could be until they got out of this system. They should be focusing on getting the _Resolute_ to safety, if they could still do it. The reminder of why Will, why none of them were safe sent a surge of energy through him.

Robot Robinson trembled as his fading power core surged and a faint foretaste of horror danced through him as his diagnostics reported his reserve levels. It might be enough. He would have to check it against the mass of the _Resolute_ to be sure, but it might be. It would drain him, but he might be able to do it. He wondered why he wasn't more frightened by the cold reality of the choices facing him, the hard decisions he would have to make. Why was he so warm, so calm?

He understood suddenly as the warmth left him. His family pulled away. Their feet rang on the hard floor as they ran...ran to greet the returning Will, Robot Robinson suddenly realized. He understood, even as his systems screamed through a hard fast reboot he understood. Still he couldn't help the spike of fear and unease at being abandoned like that. Couldn't help feeling abandoned as their warm hands left him and the cold started to creep up his limbs again. But as his senses returned he realized that not every member of his family had left him.

John Robinson crouched over him, eyes scanning the room for danger even as a relieved smile played over his face. John's face was also marred by the angry red lights Robot Robinson had come to recognize as recent injuries. John's lungs heaved with the effort to draw in enough oxygen. What had John done to be here in this moment?

That line of thought disengaged as the chill crept back up past his wrists. Robot Robinson needed to feel that warmth again. He reached out a hand for John, hoping to feel, not just the physical warmth, but the burning glow of the father's courage. John glanced and the hand and nodded. He reached down and grasped Robot Robinson's hand with one of his own and wrapped the other around Robot Robinson's arm.

"Okay, Big Guy," John said as he began to lift.

Robot Robinson realized belatedly that John had taken his gesture as a request for assistance in standing. He felt amusement flicker across his face, but as it got him even more of the physical contact he craved he wasn't going to object, and he supposed his plans did call for him to stand up at some point. John pulled and then met with the full weight of Robot Robinson's frame. His smile turned into a pained grimace and all amusement fled from Robot Robinson's processor.

He wondered what damaged John had taken that he couldn't see, under that insulating clothing he wore. John grunted and called for help from the other humans present. Don West immediately leapt to their aid but Robot Robinson recoiled, forcing himself to stand with only John's help. It was difficult, getting his shaking limbs to bring him to a standing position without removing his hand from John's, but he managed it. He didn't want the lesser, confused lights of the other humans to confuse the strong clear focus that came from his warrior.

"Ready to go meet Will, Big Guy?" John asked, looking up into his display with a gentle smile.

Robot Robinson pulsed a yes and carefully tried to step off the platform. The awkward bipedal form made him stumble, jerking on John's arm as he righted himself. John grunted in pain and the human's lights surged with a red glow. Robot Robinson reminded himself that it wasn't anger, only the pain. And found that concept hardly reassuring when he was the cause of that pain.

He carefully took a step back from John and rolled his shoulders experimentally. The worst of the pain and cold was gone and the rest was fading fast.

"Do you need some time Big Guy?" John asked.

Robot Robinson shook his head and nodded towards the door. Several of the guards saw this and inched back, watching them warily. Robot Robinson noted that they were more focused on John than him, and that they each sported more damage indicators than John did. That explained John's injuries and Robot Robinson fought down a strange mix of pride, comfort, anger, and guilt. John was a warrior. His warrior. That was his function. They needed to focus on the next task.

"Will Robinson," Robot Robinson said.

"Let's go find him then," John said with a warmsmile lighting his face.

The guards dispersed from the door and Robot Robinson took a few tentative steps. He staggered and in an instant John was touching him again. His bright presence steadied Robot Robinson and he was able to take his next step with more assurance.

"Easy there Big Guy," John murmured as the passed through the door. "One step at a time."

It was good advice for this form, Robot mused as they walked down the hallway. His processors were quickly coming back to full power as he analyzed the situation. He might have enough power. It would be close. Now that his senses weren't blinded by the probe he could hear the system wide alerts again. He could almost feel the four fleets approaching the _Resolute. _They passed a window and Robot caught a glimpse of the near dead planet. He paused a moment as his quickening processors chose that moment to add a final piece of data to his calculations.

"Something the matter Big Guy?" John asked in concern.

John turned to follow his gaze down to the planet, as if he could see the threat that Robot knew faced the colony. Robot saw his own red threat analysis reflected in the glass and felt a stab of despair. He could never explain the danger in the limited language they had. Not even to John, who made so few assumptions. John couldn't understand what that empty planet represented. Why the humans had been unnoticed and unmolested for so long. What had happened there once. What would happen here in orbit above it once again. Unless Robot Robinson could save everyone. He was still too numb to feel if his gamble had paid off. If the traitor…

"Big Guy?" John's voice pulled him from the analysis loop and Robot Robinson shook his head.

They started back towards the docking bay. A group of humans surged around them bumping into Robot and threatening his precarious balance. John stayed beside him, reaching out to steady him when he staggered. Robot idly noticed that John was only using his first two fingers to touch him and an old bromide from training flickered up, two talons can grasp, but it takes three to control that grip. Was John trying to reassure him he wasn't going to be controlled again? Robot wondered. However with each touch he seemed to absorb a little more of the quite courage radiating off of John Robinson.

"You're okay," John reassured him.

When Will finally rushed up to him his processors were humming along at full capacity and his senses were clear. He could feel the presence of the other scrambling around on the outside of the _R__esolute_. So his gamble had succeeded in its first step. Now to see if he was as much of a sentimental fool as his forerunner would call him.

He could feel the approaching ship of shock-troops. Most importantly he had finalized his calculations on the mass of the Resolute. Even as Will reassured him that he had completed the mission. Even as Robot realized with regret that Ben Adler had not returned with Will. The cold, hard reality of the situation set in. It wasn't enough. He wasn't enough. Not enough time, not enough energy. Not enough trust. Dread coiled inside of him as he realized what Maureen was saying. She turned to him.

"Please take us to Alpha Centauri," Maureen asked briskly.

He could tell that her mind was clearly far away. She was an engineer, not a warrior. It made sense she didn't understand.

"No," he said quietly.

Frustration coiled within him as Will began to chatter about how he didn't mean it. How could he explain to them? The danger, his own limitations? The fallout from a war they had no part in?

"Danger," he tried, hoping.

His warrior didn't disappoint him and Robot Robinson felt a wash of relief when John spoke. His warrior clearly couldn't see the lager picture, but asked the most pressing question.

"Once the alien engine's activated how long does the hole in space stay open for?" John asked.

"I don't know," Maureen said, realization and fear dawning on her face.

"Long enough for the robots to follow us through the rift?" John pressed, his face lighting with threat analysis.

One of the other colonists interjected and the talk turned to their plans to confront the shock-troopers. John turned as if to follow Maureen as she moved execute her plan but before he could leave Robot Robinson reached out and touched his hand with two fingers. John glanced back and him. Robot felt the familiar frustration of his lack of words, he could only try.

"Thank you," Robot Robinson said, putting all the depth he could into his lights, hoping John would understand.

A wide smile split John's face and he wrapped his hand around Robot's wrist. A pulse of the strange alien energy came across, some still very alien to Robot, but some that he understood, love, care, compassion, courage.

"Thank you." John said with quiet firmness before turning to follow his mate.

Robot Robinson squared his shoulders and turned to focus on his plan. He was going to save everyone this time.


End file.
